


[get a grip, boy]

by ephemerall



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Car Porn, Incest, M/M, PWP, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-16
Updated: 2010-05-16
Packaged: 2017-10-09 11:53:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/87022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemerall/pseuds/ephemerall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even though he won't admit it out loud, it sounds great; Sam is as much in love with Dean's mouth as he is with Dean, and the thought of Dean out here on his knees on the pavement…</p>
            </blockquote>





	[get a grip, boy]

The truth of it was Sam knew this was going to take forever; whenever Dean says he'll be right back it's usually a gross understatement, and this time isn't any different. He went into the hospital to get patient information almost an hour ago, and Sam's been stuck sitting in the front seat of the car because he's got nowhere else to go – and Dean took the keys, so if Sam hotwires Dean's car he's not sure he'd live to see his next birthday.

He's beyond annoyed when his phone rings and its Dean on the caller ID. "What," he says into the phone, not interested in what blonde nurse Dean is staring at or getting a phone number from.

"Don't be like that, Sammy," Dean says back, and Sam can practically hear him smile.

"An hour? Really? What the hell are you doing in there?" Dean huffs a laugh on the other end. "Nevermind, I don't want to know just…get the hell out here so we can go get some sleep."

"What's the matter, Sammy? Jealous that I might have some hot girl in here on her knees for me? God knows you can't deep throat for crap, so maybe I've got my dick crammed down her throat to remember what it feels like."

Sam squeezes his phone too hard for a moment, closing his eyes just as tight. "This is so not the time for this," Sam says. "If you want a blow job get out here and we can go back to the motel."

"Maybe I don't want to," Dean replies, and Sam can hear him shuffling papers. "Maybe I want to get you all hot and bothered from here, and then come out there and blow you."

Even though he won't admit it out loud, it sounds great; Sam is as much in love with Dean's mouth as he is with Dean, and the thought of Dean out here on his knees on the pavement… Sam can feel his blood pulse and his dick swells in his jeans. His breath huffs out into the phone. "Really? You want to do this?" Sam asks.

"Hell yeah," Dean replies. "Like that time in Arizona, when we pulled over because you were too horny to wait…" he can hear Dean shuffle through more papers. "Remember that, Sammy?"

"Yeah," Sam breathes into the phone; he's more than half-way hard already. He remembers perfectly well what that was like on the roadside in Arizona.

"Anyone could have driven by and saw is," Dean says. "Undid your belt and got your pants down around your thighs, and just pulled your dick right out in the open… you remember how hot it was out?"

"Yeah," Sam answered, pressing his palm against his dick, the zipper digging in just this side of painful. "Your mouth was hotter."

"That's it," Dean replies.

"You're mouth is fucking unreal," Sam says, thumbing open the button on his jeans and easing the zipper down; he doesn't pull his dick out, just shoves his hand into his boxers, pushing his hips up against his own hand. "Damn thing should be illegal it's so good."

"You touching yourself, Sammy?" Dean asks and Sam can practically hear the leering grin on his face. "Gonna pull your dick out right in the parking lot? You're gonna make me think you want someone to see us one of these days…"

Sam decides to turn the tables a little. "Know what else I love, Dean?"

"What's that?"

"Your cock," Sam replies, and he can hear the change in his voice – breathier, a little hoarser – and can hear the change in Dean's breathing as he swears on the other end. "Love having your cock in me; love when you fuck me so hard I'm sore for days."

"Jesus Christ, Sammy," Dean swears on the other end.

Sam's working himself in his jeans, cock slippery and wet at the tip, and if he doesn't give himself a little more friction he's going to die, he's sure of it. He decides he doesn't give a shit who is or isn't around; if someone sees him and doesn't like what he's doing, they can go fuck themselves or look away, and if someone likes what he's doing, well, he guesses they should enjoy the show. He pulls his dick out, fisting it tighter, but still slow, and groans into the phone.

"There you go," Dean says. "Nice and slow, Sammy – don't wanna come before I get my mouth on you."

Sam groans again. "So shut the fuck up and get out here and blow me."

"You want it bad, Sammy? Because when I'm done, I'm going to bend you over the backseat and fuck you until you scream. How's that sound?"

Sam struggles holding the phone with one hand and maneuvers himself into the backseat, trying with one hand to get his pants down around his knees – it's harder than he thought but when he manages he sucks two fingers into his mouth to get them good and wet with spit; he slips his hand down, leaving a wet trail over his balls and perineum, and pushes both fingers into his hole at once. "Fuck," he whispers into the phone. "Know what I'm doing, Dean? You know what I'm doing for you right now?"

"Tell me," Dean says, and it's his sex voice, the one Sam makes fun of him for but loves the sound of right this second.

"Getting myself ready for you," Sam answers. "Fingering myself open for you, Dean, right here in the backseat, in the parking garage."

He hears Dean swear and hang up, he twists his fingers just right and his whole body jerks with a hard spasm of bright pleasure; his dick smears precome on his belly. When he hears footsteps he doesn't stop, doesn't check to see who it is, because he's spent his whole life learning what Dean sounds like, and he knows just the sound of Dean's boots on the pavement. He opens his eyes and Dean's standing there between his feet, his dick straining against his jeans. "Cock teasing bitch," Dean says, pulling Sam by his legs; his skin catches against the leather seat and it stings, but he just pulls his fingers free of himself and bites his lip.

"You started it," he replies and watches as Dean drops to his knees. He slips his fingers through Dean's short hair, urging him forward. "Please," he begs, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. He honestly expects Dean to have something else to say, to tease it out longer, but he just slips his mouth over Sam's cock in one smooth move. Sam's breath punches out of him, and he groans quietly. "Yeah," he croaks.

Dean's sloppy; he slurps at Sam's dick like it's going to melt if he doesn't take it all in, spit sliding down Sam's dick and over his balls. It feels too good and he doesn't think it's going to last for more than a few minutes, and he'll spend time being embarrassed about it later. Dean slips two fingers in beside Sam's dick, gets them good and wet, and without preamble slips them right into Sam. Sam's hips jerk, hands tightening in Dean's hair, and he can feel the first tingling of his orgasm at the base of his spine. Dean works his fingers and his mouth over Sam's dick at the same time, pulling back to tongue at the slit and makes Sam whine in his throat, only to suck him back down so hard it rips Sam's orgasm out of him. The tendons in Sam's neck stand out, his head going back so far Dean is sure he's going to break it; his whole body goes so tense it almost hurts.

"Fuck," Sam whispers, hands trembling as he touches Dean's face.

"Turn over," Dean says, and looks around the parking garage. It's still empty, visiting hours long past over. Sam is turning over while Dean goes to the front, opens the passenger door, and rummages through the glove box. Sam turns his head to look at him as he slams the glove box shut and then the door.

"You keep lube in the glove box?" Sam asks.

"And this is exactly why," Dean says, voice wrecked. When he pops the cap on the tube Sam's whole body goes tight with anticipation; what he said to Dean about loving his cock wasn't a lie. He can hear Dean squirt some into his hand, and expects Dean's fingers, but instead he gets the head of Dean's cock pushing into him. Dean doesn't go too fast, but not slow enough, pushing all the way in until he can't go any further. Sam feels full enough to burst. Dean doesn't pause either; he pulls almost all the way out and then all the way back in.

They're hanging half out of the car; it's an awkward position and uncomfortable, but God, Dean feels so good that Sam could not care how uncomfortable it is. Dean grabs him by the hips and changes the angle, cock slamming into Sam's prostate dead on, making him cry out and press his cheek into the seat. "You like that, Sammy?" Dean says, slamming in harder, making Sam's whole body grow tight with pleasure; it sparks up Sam's spine, and if he could come again he would. "Love fucking you," Dean says, punctuated with another hard thrust, slow slide out, and hard thrust back in.

"Then fuck me," Sam says. "Come on, Dean; you love fucking me so much, shut up and fuck me for real."

Dean's always been pretty good at doing what he's told; he doesn't bother with a smart remark, and Sam doesn't even get a slap to the ass like he does when he says something during sex and Dean wants him to shut up; Dean just fucks him hard. Each thrust punches the air right out of Sam's chest and he can hear Dean breathing hard behind him, his fingers digging red marks into Sam's hips. The wet sounds and their skin slapping together is absurdly loud in the empty parking garage, Dean's rhythm harsh and steady; when he starts to lose that rhythm Sam knows Dean's close to coming, so he pushes himself back onto Dean's dick with each thrust. Dean swears quietly, short nails biting into Sam's skin when he comes; Sam swears he can feel Dean's dick lengthen and pulsing in him. Dean pulls out slowly and Sam winces; he's going to be sore for days, just like he asked for.

For a few minutes, Dean just stands there, both of them catching their breath. Sam startles and hit his head into the door when Dean lays a sharp slap to his ass cheek. "Come on, Francis; let's get your sweet ass back to the motel so you can shower – you're going to make my whole car smell like jizz and sex."

"You're such a douchebag," Sam says in response, flopping over carefully onto his back to wrestle his jeans back up. He grimaces when he sits up, even worse when he stands up and looks at Dean over the car. "Dude. What the fuck happened to the condom?"

"Oh, yeah; I knew I forgot something," Dean says with a smirk, opening the driver's side door. "Would you believe me if I said it feels better when I don't wear one?"

"You're a bitch," Sam says, a little annoyed. Riding to the motel like this is going to suck; anal sex without condoms is messy and disgusting.

"Says the guy with my jizz leaking out of his ass," Dean says and then ducks down into the car to start her up.

Sam resists the urge to punch Dean, and instead, when they get back to the motel, after Dean falls asleep, Sam super glues all of the zippers on his brother's jeans closed.


End file.
